Big night for religion at Emmys
"Fleabag"'s priest plot pays off
I am a huge fan of Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s “Fleabag” series that took home last night’s top honors, for Best Comedy, at The Emmy Awards. And while the show was often more sexually graphic than I usually care for, its treatment of the nature and power of faith was the most intelligent, thoughtful and resonating I’ve seen in a long time.
No spoilers lurk beneath — and you can hear me talk about “Fleabag” and religion on Interfaith Radio here (with spoilers).
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aX2ViKQFL_k
“Fleabag,” for the uninitiated, is about an unnamed thirty-something woman and the consequences of some terrible decisions she makes as a sex addict. It is also hilariously funny. In the second season, Fleabag (played by Waller-Bridge, who also wrote the series and the one-woman show on which it was based), is attempting to reform herself when she meets The Priest (played by the fabulous Andrew Scott), a gorgeous, sensitive and struggling Catholic priest who is to marry Fleabag’s Dad and Godmother.
Fleabag is an atheist. The Priest is not. That does not stop them from forming a very moving connection. And while The Priest is as foul-mouthed as Fleabag and repeatedly says uproariously un-priestly things (Fleabag - “Do you think I should become a Catholic?” The Priest - “No, don't do that. I like that you believe in a meaningless existence”), he gives shocking glimpses of a call that is both solace and struggle. Over canned gin-and-tonics The Priest produces, Fleabag asks him if he ever has doubts.
“Yes, of course, every day, it is part of the deal,” he responds. When she asks him about celibacy, he says, “Celibacy is a lot less complicated than romantic relationships . . .” And if someone falls in love with you, “You talk, you drink, you laugh you give them bibles and eventually you hope they’ll leave you alone.” Later, he proposes a toast — “Here’s to peace . . . and those who get in the way of it” — and asks Fleabag to pray for him because he “could use the extra hands. Mine don’t seem to reach anymore.”
At one point, a floundering Fleabag finds her way to the confessional; The Priest (who she discovers digging out a well-hidden bottle of booze in the rectory) encourages her to step in and open her heart:
"I want someone to tell me what to wear in the morning. I want someone to tell me what to wear EVERY morning. I want someone to tell me what to eat. What to like, what to hate, what to rage about, what to listen to, what band to like, what to buy tickets for, what to joke about, what not to joke about. I want someone to tell me what to believe in, who to vote for, who to love and how to tell them.
"I just think I want someone to tell me how to live my life, Father, because so far I think I’ve been getting it wrong — and I know that’s why people want people like you in their lives, because you just tell them how to do it. You just tell them what to do and what they’ll get out at the end of it, and even though I don’t believe your bullshit, and I know that scientifically nothing I do makes any difference in the end anyway, I’m still scared. Why am I still scared? So just tell me what to do. Just fucking tell me what to do, Father.
A lot has been written about what happens next. Let’s just say “Don’t touch that dial.” Stick with it to the end and then decide.
I finished “Fleabag” with mixed feelings about the story but certain that the struggles with faith and the lack of it depicted within were very real. It is television with religion themes worth watching (not like HBO’s new “The Righteous Gemstones,” about a family of televangelists). I’m still thinking about the show, a mark of the series’ excellent writing (for which Waller-Bridge was honored last night). If all priests were as human and compassionate as this one, I’d be more likely to go to church.